Remains
by alexandreduvallon
Summary: When Merlin wakes up in complete darkness, who is responsible for his current predicament? Will friendships, hearts or possible love be lost or found? But is everyone who they say they are, even after years of friendship.
1. Chapter 1: Darkness

**A/N Hey! This is my first fanfiction so please leave a comment or like it. It would mean a lot. If you have any theories as to what is going to happen next then, by all means, leave a comment :)**

Darkness. Enveloping every limb, shadows climbed over the weak figure discarded on the rotting floor beneath. Who was he? _Where_ was he? The darkness was suffocating. His memories had yet to be drawn together again.

 _Snow lay plastered on trees, sticking to it with blind ignorance against the wind's rages. In front of him was a lake, beautifully broken and yet he became mesmerized with each crack that was on its surface. Tentatively, he placed an uncertain foot on the surface. It withstood the weight. Another foot was added; So far so good. One step at a time, his lanky figure made its way across until his balance was lost with a reverberating CRACK! Icy tendrils stretched out from where he lay and before he could create a clear plan of action he plummeted into the icy water that awaited him. All in a rush, his coping mechanism came back to him and his stunned mind knew what it had to do._

 _Sight; Blurriness, blinding light as he arched his neck towards the surface of the lake, dismorphed tree branches and sunlight through the ripples of water._

 _Sound; Water moving around his flailing arms other than that, silence. Nobody to hear his screams._

 _Touch; Numbness, the cold rot of the wooden floor beneath him._

 _Sound; the heavy, echoing footsteps reverberating closer to him with every thump._

 _Scent; rot, body odors, the lingering scent of feces._

His method of escaping reality was usually foolproof, yet he found himself back in the darkness rather than engrossed in his memory of choice. The silence was broken by the footsteps that came closer, never breaking stride. The darkness hid away in the shadows when the door swung open, letting light flurry into where it was once deprived. Yet Merlin never felt the need to lift his head. He knew from one glance he was a dead man.


	2. Chapter 2: Herbs

**A/N Hey! Well in four days this little chapter got 2 reviews, 3 favourites and 5 followers! The Merlin fandom hasn't died out just yet eh? Thank you for everyone who has shown their support and try and see where this is going to go next!**

His method of escaping reality was usually fool proof, yet he found himself back in the darkness rather than engrossed in his memory of choice. The silence was broken by the footsteps that came closer, never breaking stride. The darkness hid away in the shadows when the door swung open, letting light flurry into where it was once deprived. Yet Merlin never felt the need to lift his head. He knew from one glance he was a dead man.

The vile stench of putrid herbs reached out to assault his nostrils. He knew what it was, he'd worked with Gaius long enough to realise which herbs could do what. Which could kill, which could paralyse, and which could morph a man into submission. His inner physician started to kick in but what was the use? Could he up and run? Or should he just wait to be cut down like a farmer's crop?

He doubted they knew. He had been particularly careful lately, especially with Uther's death and Arthur's unpredictable moods. Arthur. Just that name took him back to the ashen walls of the citadel, the training grounds where he would spend the morning being kicked about between various knights, all in good nature of course.

Gwaine. Lancelot. Per- SLAP! His thoughts were interrupted, and he found himself wondering how long he'd been dosed out for. A few seconds? Minutes? His cheek was now flushing a furious scarlet, soon to fade into a sickening mix of black and purple. Why did he bother trying to count the time? It was always the same. Four walls, rotten floor, six-foot door.

"Now, sorcerer. Fancy telling us what you were doing with those filthy tainted hands near Camelot?" The us caught Merlin off guard. That was until he noticed the broad-shouldered, beasts of men towering behind his captor. He shuddered. They knew. His breaths came in at an uneven pace, yet he had to maintain his calm façade. He'd just be proving what they already know.

Coughing to keep the strain out of his voice, he managed to croak out, "I don't know what you're talking about." Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say as it resulted in another backhand across the other side of his face. At least he matched now. He almost chuckled at the irony but the stern faces looking down on him made him think otherwise.

For a few moments, a silence blanketed the room, captor and sorcerer staring at each other, each refusing to blink. Finally, it ended. "Get the herbs jackass." At the word herbs, his mind rooted back to the ghastly scent from earlier on and he would have slapped himself. He started to tear at his bonds, desperate to get free yet they held him firm. The manacles refused to give way other than the odd clink on the metal floor beneath. The odds were clearly not in his favour.

In his mind endorsing struggle to escape, he only had time for a last gasp of air before his nose was plugged by two chubby fingers. He never appreciated air, oh how he would kill to be able to breathe normally. The pressure gathered in his throat and all his addled mind could register was the need to open his mouth but he held fast, the metal cup of herbal concoction motivating him to hold further. He knew it couldn't last. He risked a small pant but a calloused hand fixed his jaw open.

Before he was aware of anything the world went spinning as lumps of herbs went down his throat. The world around him decided to slip out of his feeble grasp and tilt to the left until he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3: Gwaine and Lance

**A/N Thank you all for the support! I've had a ton of reviews which honestly brightens up my day. I've had a few reviews commenting on how cryptic the story has been so far and who exactly has Merlin. Well my friends, that is to remain a secret for now but I'm looking forward to hearing any theories that any of you may have**. **There has been a bigger gap between posting due to the lack of an internet connection and Christmas as the library is closed on most days. I'm thinking of writing some long one shots for Merlin and the Musketeers so if anybody has any prompts for that then please leave them. Other than that, off to Camelot we go!**

Camelot

Gwaine's head hung low with defeat, his hair swishing to the upbeat rhythm of the wind and the movements of his horse. How many times could he leave the citadel with a determined focus on his mission and come back disappointed with himself empty-handed? An air of grief had expanded over the citadel in Merlin's absence, dampening the moods of castle maids and knights alike. No longer were the mornings filled with yells of "Merlin!" after a resonating crash.

Directing his horse into the clearing located near a tavern, Gwaine soon found his feelings of loss converting to a desperate longing for a pint of mead. Entering through the rickety door, those inside twisted their necks in a snake-like fashion to have a glance at him. After realising that he was nothing special, their attention was rediverted to the tankards of mead in front of them.

Striding over to the bar, a buxom maid turned to him, offering a pint which he gladly accepted. With each point that magically seemed to appear in front of his as each empty glass lay pushed to one side, he noticed that his thoughts seemed to direct themselves towards to Merlin. His dear Merlin. Who else would risk the wrath of the cook for him and Percy to steal some of the delicious bread rolls? The more his thoughts were based on his heart-wrenching loss of Merlin, the more his feelings converted to anger at the mere thought of the Prat.

He clearly thought of himself as so high and mighty being king and all but Gwaine intended to wipe the smug smile that the continuously wore nowadays off his face during training the next day. And to think that he had the cheek to ban him from leading any more search parties! All of the other nights of the so-called round table may have obediently lowered their heads like the lap dogs they were and quelled any arguments from rising but he did not intend to do so.

His face flushed with anger, or maybe it was the mead. Staggering out of the tavern, he found his way back to his noble steed. Onwards he rode to the citadel, planning to give the Prat a piece of his mine alongside a serving of his fist while he was at it.

Line Break

Lancelot sat with his head resting on the brick wall behind him. He observed the everyday activities of commoners in the citadel through the window of the east wing, somewhere he had grown particularly fond of recently. Since Merlin had disappeared, tensions had been strung as tight as a bowstring causing the once unconquerable bonds of the knights of the round table to crumble.

Every night he would sit at the window and observe the gates for any figures that happened to have blue eyes and a mop of black hair to walk through. However, with each day that drifted by, he longed to know what he was looking for; a cripple, a man whose posture depicted that of his mind, a corpse? He missed the hope that the search parties would bring him, the hope that his faith in Gwaine would bring Merlin back to him. He knew that Gwaine wouldn't abandon Merlin like the rest of them. Even then, the mere mention of his name seemed to be banned nowadays, and those that dared to speak it only did so in hushed whispers in the fear that their king would have a fir should he hear.

Interrupting his thoughts, the crowds that he was observing parted like the red sea and a rider which he recognised as Gwaine passed through. Rushing through the empty corridors, he ran into Percival. Normally the circumstance would result in merry laughs but now the exchange was only greeted with rushed apologies as they both continued on their way from the awkward affair.

From his view of Gwaine, the scarlet cheeks that burned aflame with anger were the first sign that something was about to change and by the livid expression on his face, things were going to change soon.


	4. Author's Note

**A/N Hey! Still, no clues have been given away but before I finally plan where this story is going and put it in cement I wanted to ask if there was any slash or pairing you guys would like. So far I'm dancing between Gwaine/ Merlin, Lancelot/Merlin, and Arthur/Merlin but it will be down to whichever gets the most votes. I'll give it a couple days and then I'll start the next chapter with the chosen pairing in mine. Thank you all** **J** **I hope everybody had a great Christmas and a happy new year!**


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